Author's Notes: Hello everyone! Quick couple of announcements, a guest reviewer last chapter asked if Smaug had two legs or four, so I'm just clearing up for any new readers that my Smaug has four legs and two wings - seeing as in my first story I posted it before I saw the movie version of Smaug. And also, in this Chapter we meet for-real Quithyra, the OC creation of our competition winner! Hope you enjoy her :) Also, I'll be touching upon what I know of the War of Wrath and what the internet has told me of the Silmarillion, I have taken deliberate liberties with some information so I apologise, but it is only a very small thing.

Chapter 15 - Ancient Blood

"For Dragons are fire made flesh, and fire… is power." – Quaithe, "Game of Thrones"

Kathryn was back upon the battlefield, the armies clashing all around her as she tried to dodge and stumble her way through the ongoing chaos. No one saw her, no one touched her, but still she feared the swinging blades and the feral looks of battle-rage in both opposing sides. On one side was the army of light, all clean figures of men and elves lead by huge, strong individuals clad in armour that shone in the evening sun. The ones they fought were an assortment of all kinds of nightmarish creatures, with fangs, cold eyes and vicious animalistic snarls.

Kathryn made her way through the battlefield, trying to find an opening where she might just escape. But then, she heard the dim call of a terrible voice that struck out across the battlefield, and the magic in her veins hummed painfully as she felt a thrum pass through the air, a dark magic calling to something wild within her. Kathryn looked up at the ridge above the battleground, as did both armies to see a monstrous figure on the top, clad in black armour, a crown with two glowing stones sitting upon his brow. He was so massive in stature, even from this distance, that all Kathryn could perceive was him, the dark holes in his helmet for his eyes seemed to loom in front of her, even though he was perhaps a hundred feet on top of a cliff away from her. The figure gave another booming roar that shook the battlefield, pointing one arm out onto the stunned armies below.

And then, a dreadful noise was heard. It was like the tearing apart of the earth, the crash of stars, it shook the very air, the bass of the sound rocking Kathryn's bones as the sound passed through her, threatening to knock her to the floor. It took Kathryn a few moments to realise that what she was hearing was no earthquake or natural disaster… she could hear something GROWLING! Terrified, Kathryn looked up to the peaks of the mountains behind the godly figure on the cliff, as she saw something moving on the mountainside. Leaping from the side of the mountain, huge winged dragons took to the earth, unleashing their cries of battle-rage as they soared overhead, fire erupting and streaming from their mouths. They were all of various sizes, most only a little smaller then Smaug, although there were some who were bigger than he. And then, Kathryn saw something else move upon the mountain, something shifting and seeming to look as if the mountain itself were cracking open. From the shadows, Kathryn saw huge taloned feet, and her gaze slowly, horrifyingly, travelled up…and up…and UP until she was looking into the clouds, her mouth gaping open in uncontainable terror. It looked as if the mountain suddenly split in half, but was actually the unfurling of gigantic wings. A dark shadow eclipsed the battlefield, blocking out the sun, and seeming to drown the area into night.

Kathryn watched as the dragon slowly revealed itself: a long serpentine neck, four huge legs packed with muscle to such a degree the skin looked to be ready to burst, each finger was tipped with a claw the size of a two storey house. Huge, sharp wings unfurled from the back, a long tail curling around the base of the rocky pedestal on which the dragon sat. Eyes the colour of the inside of a volcano glowed with wild blood-lust and a deadly and perverse humour shining in his expression as he watched every creature on the battlefield, both friend and foe, quake and scream as he cast his eyes upon them, long and sharp teeth gleaming as he smirked. The dragon was covered in midnight black scales that did not shine but seemed to glisten with the sun behind him, he was darker then the shadow of the night, the only thing breaking apart the darkness being the shine of his eyes and the red, fiery glow the leaked between the scales of his chest. Kathryn felt as if she would be sick from the terror that consumed her entire being as she gazed upon the face of the dragon, but when it turned its head to a specific angle, Kathryn could have sworn she saw something uncomfortably familiar about his face.

The Black Monster of a Dragon opened his jaws and unleashed a sound that literally made Kathryn scream in pain as her ears threatened to burst from the volume and pressure of the roar that erupted all around her. Then, pushing off from the ground with such force his strength actually broke the stone on which he stood, the dragon leapt into the air. Kathryn was stunned with how fast he moved. She had expected something of that size to be a slow and lumbering giant, but instead, he was as fast and agile as his smaller brethren that flanked him and followed him as the black dragon flew over the battlefield.

Another roar sounded as the dragon bathed over half of the battlefield in his fire with a single breath, the screams of the dread and the dying and the stench of burning flesh filled the air. Kathryn screamed as she tried to run from the flames and not to be sick from the awful scent of death that surrounded her on all sides. What the black giant had not rendered to ash, the other winged dragons destroyed as they descended from the sky, as if the black dragon was their general and had given a silent order to them, they flew down in organised form and attacked those remaining without any mercy. The golden army of men and elves – who had seemed to be winning the battle before – was suddenly at the mercy of the reptilian titans, the battle seeming to be all but lost.

Kathryn spun around as she felt a hand grip her arm and hurled her to face the huge man that had been on top of the cliff not seconds earlier. He was so huge that he literally dwarfed Kathryn, making her feel like a child as he towered almost four feet above her. The dark eyes of his helm contrasted the blinding light from the stones in his crown, but she could FEEL him glaring at her as she suddenly heard his voice all around her, screaming and whispering and shouting and growling all at the same time. She was rocked to the core as she felt a dark magic radiate off of him in waves that almost choked her. Kathryn whimpered and squirmed as she tried to extract herself from the male's grip, but he only held her tighter, bringing her closer to him as he washed his hot breath over her face.

"Find it…" he hissed.

Kathryn screamed, fighting for all she was worth, even as she felt another presence enter her mind.

"KATHRYN!"

Kathryn sat bolt upright from where she lay, smacking straight into something hard and unyielding, knocking the wind out of her as she rebounded and fell back to the ground with a groan of pain. She lay there, panting and yearning for air as her clothes stuck to her body from where she was drenched in sweat, her limbs shaking from the after-effects of her fear. After a moment where she could trust herself that she was back in the waking reality and not trapped in the same awful vision, she slowly opened her purple eyes, pulling back the red hair from her face with a shaking hand as she looked up into the concerned draconic face of Smaug.

He hovered over her body, yellow eyes piercing in the darkness of the room as he stared at her with an unblinking gaze. It took Kathryn a moment to look around to see that it was still night, but her body-clock told her that dawn was not far away. She groaned as she sat up, holding her face in her hands as she rubbed her eyes tiredly.

"Kathryn…" she heard Smaug's voice and felt his breath wash over her, bringing with it the stench of meat and smoke. When he rumbled at her, Kathryn forced herself to look at him tiredly. He hadn't even been gone a few hours to hunt for them both and she had succumbed to a vision when he had been too far away to help her. She hated feeling so helpless, it felt like she was proving something to him, that she was a weak flower without him there. And whilst she was grateful to have him there at all to help her through the visions, breaking the illusion that came over her mind that it was real, she wanted to show both him and herself that she could handle this herself.

Kathryn averted her eyes from him, and Smaug rumbled grumpily at her dismissal of the subject. He growled to himself as he turned away from her picked up his kill that he had obviously dropped when entering the room. He dropped the dead animal at her feet, a stag, and Kathryn found a rusted knife that had been left abandoned with the fortress as she skinned and cut off a piece of meat for herself. Smaug then summoned some small flames at the back of his throat in order to cook it to an edible degree. Kathryn mumbled her thanks, before sitting back down and eating silently, constantly aware of Smaug's eyes boring into her as he looked down on her, but she ignored him. Her mind was still swirling at what she had seen, going over everything that had happened. The mere memory of the monstrous black dragon and the god-like figure upon the cliff still managed to make her heart race. Her fear must have been more notable then she thought, as Smaug suddenly took a sharp intake of breath as he scented the air and growled loudly to himself.

"It was a battlefield," Kathryn said eventually with a sigh, giving in to Smaug's will as she looked at the floor almost ashamedly. "Men and elves against… things. Then, there was a person – I don't know what he was, bigger than either human or elf, and the power that radiated off of him," Kathryn gave an involuntary shudder, and was aware of Smaug moving closer to her to curl his long body around her, enveloping her in his great heat. "He summoned dragons, dozens of them." she whispered, remembering the horrifying sight of such beasts attacking so many people in a bloody merciless massacre. "And there was one… he was huge, black, gigantic, the biggest creature I've ever seen. He destroyed the battlefield. And he listened to the man-thing!"

"You saw Ancalagon and the War of Wrath," Smaug's voice rumbled, and Kathryn looked over to his face to his expression was dark with deep thought, his lip curling slightly to supress a growl, his brows furrowed tightly into a scowl.

"What?" Kathryn breathed, unsure if she wanted to know the answer.

"Thousands of years ago," Smaug began, his voice rich a commanding of her attention, Kathryn felt as if he was weaving the very fabric of reality itself with his words. "The True Dark Lord, Morgoth, declared war on his former brethren, the Valar, for the dominion of all Arda. The Valar had armies of men and elves and easily defeated Morgoth's orcs and other creatures he created. They even defeated many Balrogs that Morgoth had created and summoned into his service with minimal casualties. But in his last attempt at victory, Morgoth enlisted the help of the dragons. He bred them into terrifying and utter destructive forces, and they were his ultimate weapons."

Kathryn felt goose-bumps rise on her arms as she watched Smaug with mesmerised eyes. She realised that there was no arrogance or boasting on Smaug's part, he was simply stating the truth with no exaggeration. And that terrified her all the more.

"Such was the power of the dragons, that with the mighty Ancalagon as their leader, they unleashed a terrible onslaught onto the Valar forces, accompanied by lightning and fire storms. Even on their own, their attack was so ferocious that they were the ones that drove the Valar back in the war and almost destroyed their entire forces. Nothing could stop them. With an army of dragons on his side, Morgoth was practically unstoppable."

"What happened?" Kathryn felt herself be compelled to ask. She just felt that she had to know how the story ended. Smaug gave a contemplative rumble of his chest as he looked at her almost tiredly.

"The warrior Earendil slew Ancalagon – a rather remarkable feet for one so puny." Smaug added in a sour undertone. "Ancalagon was so huge that he broke three mountains underneath him when he fell from the sky, destroying his master's fortress. Morgoth was then captured by the Valar and thrust through the Door of Night, from which he could not return."

"The Door of Night?"

"A load of human foolishness and wistful fantasies. I was not there, all I know was that with Morgoth defeated, the dragons returned to their previous lives, though Morgoth's meddling still held sway over their lives."

"Does he hold sway over yours?" Kathryn blurted out on a shaky breath before she could stop herself. Smaug lifted his head and neck from his position so that he could stare down at her and glare with his blazing eyes, making Kathryn shrink as she felt smaller than a piece of dirt on the floor. It was not Smaug she feared… but the darkness that she suddenly saw swirl within his draconic eyes.

"I answer to no-one. I am the greatest dragon of this age – possibly the greatest since Ancalagon himself, my great ancestor! No mere dark-magic fool could hope to control me!" He snarled, though it was not directed at Kathryn, more like a challenge to whomever would listen.

Kathryn sat there, shivering as she contemplated all that Smaug had told her and what it meant in her vision… and also this sudden mood-swing that she was not too sure she liked on Smaug. Yes, he had had temper-tantrums before, his mood was always changing from rather pleasant to murderously foul in an instant, but she had never seen it so… unreasonable before. Before, there had always been a reason for his anger – somewhat. But this? Smaug saw her pale face then, and seemed to snap out of whatever mood he was in as he lowered his head to the floor and nuzzles Kathryn's body against his snout as he purred contentedly against her side.

"Now get some sleep," he murmured. "We have talked away most of the night, and you are tired," and with that, he wrapped the coils of his tail around her so and brought her to the centre of the curl of his body so that his head was right beside her. Enveloped in his tail, Kathryn was warm and safe and more importantly where Smaug could make sure she stayed. This was how they had been sleeping over the past few nights, and it looked as if when given the choice this is how Smaug wanted them to sleep.

But despite the warmth and the comfort and for having her dragon beside her, because of all she had learned in the last hour, suffice it to say that Kathryn did not sleep easily.

Quithyra's long stride echoed as she walked as fast as she could down the castle halls, practically almost into a jog as she made her way towards the Queen's private halls. Clutching her satchel to her chest, the young woman tried not to allow any vials and bottles to clink together too harshly with her speedy and ungraceful step. She was in too much of a rush, having overslept and knew that she was desperately needed by the Queen's side.

Why couldn't anything ever be simple?! Back in her homeland of Harad, she had never had to worry so much about being late or minding her manners or subjecting herself to being someone else's servant. But… what could she do? She and her two brothers had come to this White-City in order to start a new and safe life away from the dangers their father had seen back in Harad. Just thinking of him brought an ache to Quithyra's heart, it had been almost a year since she had left him, but still the wound of separation was raw and fresh inside of her soul.

She soon came towards the Queen's private chambers, noticing how the number of guards near her vicinity had quadrupled in number since the King's murder. But Quithyra was pleasantly surprised to see one of her older brothers, Zanros, was on guard duty, and as she passed him, she gave him a secret smile, which he returned. The three siblings looked alike, but Quithyra and Zanros had often been mistaken for twins when they had been very young, for they both had the eastern complexion of sun-kissed dark skin, and the same bright almond shaped amber eyes. But where Zanros had cut his hair as he had turned into a man, Quithyra had allowed her hair to grow long, the deep black curls reaching past her shoulder blades, though when she worked she would pull it roughly back into a braid, though stubborn curls at the sides often made their bid to escape, giving her a slightly deranged look.

As she entered Queen Lalemwen's chambers, the other guards gave her a small sneer that perhaps they thought she did not see, but she did, and tried her best not to lash out at them for it. Back Harad, these pigs would have had a finger removed for looking at her so! But Quithyra calmed herself by thinking that these western idiots must be intimidated by a woman who could match them in height and stature, as Quithyra was tall enough to meet them all eye to eye; if so then they were cowards who did not deserve the honour of wearing their uniform.

Inside the Queen's study, the Queen sat at a desk overlooking several maps and papers that were heaped before her, with the Lord Beronor, Lord Gregorse sitting in comfortable armchairs before her, off to the side was General Victis, who looked rather pale with a sheen of sweat across his brow, his leg had been bandaged and splintered, but Quithyra's master, the court healer, suspected that perhaps the leg would need to be removed if the General's fever did not fade. It had been days since the attack, and the General was lucky to be alive, he had only awoken yesterday once his injuries had been treated as best they could… Quithyra paled as she remembered her master talking about it with almost a sickeningly delighted glee as he described how the General's leg had almost been torn completely off, and several soldiers were now in unrecognisable puddles of gore and filth in unmarked graves. Quithyra shivered as she thought that that could have been her brother, but thanked every deity known to men and elves that it had not been. Quithyra closed the door to the study quietly behind her and stood in the shadows of the corner and watched the proceedings. Seeing as her master was busy with a previous engagement this evening, Quithyra had been selected to watch over the Queen, who needed a physician on hand and ready seeing as she was half way through her pregnancy, and the stresses that she had been put through the last few days were rather taxing on her. And one could tell, for she was garbed in all black to show her mourning clothes, her eyes were red and puffy from crying and sleepless nights, her cheeks had no flush where her stomach had been refusing food. Being the healer's assistant, it was Quithyra's job now to look after her charge, and she honestly enjoyed it and took pride in it: the Queen was a good woman as far as she could tell.

"Can someone please tell me," the Queen said in an exhausted tone. "How on all of Middle-Earth, a dragon managed to get into the heart of Vathvael?" The Lords looked at each other nervously, but it was Beronor who spoke.

"Your Majesty," he began in a soft and overly respectful tone, and Quithyra saw the Queen's eyes twitch in annoyance at the almost condescending tone of the lord. "We are not entirely sure, our men were in pursuit of the murderer, Cail Agonn, when some rather... disturbing reports say that he transformed into the dragon."

"A shape-shifter?" Lalemwen asked with a slight hitch in her breath.

"We are not sure at this time, Your Highness," Beronor murmured. "Either way, we suspect it to be the result of some dark magic."

"We were caught by surprise before, can I trust that we have sufficient weaponry to take it down when we are prepared for it?" Lalemwen asked.

"I am assured that the garrison has sufficient man-power and ballista's capable of shooting this beast out of the sky should he –"

"Hog wash!" Victis rasped out with a strangled voice, cutting Beronor's reply off.

"General?" Lalemwen asked, her face turning to him with eyes full of concern.

"I faced that monster with thirty of my best men, with arrows and swords that were made by our finest black-smiths and sharpened enough to cut a finger from a simple feel of the blade! Forgive my rudeness your majesty, but this pompous hide-away doesn't know what he's talking about!"

"Perhaps the general is tired;" Beronor's lips curled into a smug smile that made Quithyra bristle from where she stood. "His mind is fevered from his wounds. Like us all, he is ageing and simply does not want to admit that he lost his battle against the dragon due to his lack of sound judgement due to age –"

"Bastard!" the general roared as he suddenly produced a sword from his belt and pointed it straight at Beronor's chest. Everyone in the room froze, a few guards looking between the lord, the Queen and their general, not sure who to rally behind. When Victis next spoke, it was with a deadly rasping growl. "I may be old and tired, aye. But I had PERFECT judgement when I was out there with my men! It was not my judgement that made the arrows bounce off of the brute's scales! It was not my old age that gave that creature such a deadly ferocity that it tore my men apart with little effort! If you believe that our army is sufficient to take it down Beronor, then you won't mind when I volunteer you to be at the front line leading the men when the thing next comes!"

Beronor paled, even as Victis put away his sword and lay back down, head rolling as his eyes fluttered shut as he struggled to contain his cough.

"Is there no way to stop this thing?" Lalemwen asked into the silence that followed.

"It has always been said your majesty," came the weasel-like voice of Lord Gregorse. "That dragons hides are tougher than any armour or metal known to men or elves. The Dwarves came up with an ingenious method to kill them however, by creating Black Arrows,"

"Black Arrows?"

"They are said to be made of such a strong metal that they remain true and strong, even against such a beast as the dragon, can pass right through their scales if fired correctly. But only when they are shot from a dwarven-windlance, another invention by the dwarves though they collaborated with men in its design so that all races could use one. The Windlance fires the arrow at such a force and velocity that it punches the arrow right through the scales, and it also allows the lance-like arrow to go greater distances then any normal bow and arrow."

"Then have our smiths make as many black arrows as possible," Lalemwen ordered, looking at him as if this should be the most obvious conclusion.

"I don't think they can, Your Highness," Gregorse tried to say gently as he winced.

"What? Why?"

"I have been doing some extensive research, You Majesty, and what I have found, is that through the ages, heroes have used "black weapons" in order to defeat the greatest dragons we have ever known. For example, Glaurung was slain by the black sword Gurthang. Since the end of the first age, it has been documented that black weapons are made when falling stars crash into the earth and the metals obtained from their core can be transformed into weapons. The can only be forged by the greatest heat, hence why black weapons melt when they enter the bodies of dragons, the fire inside of them being too hot to handle. The last known star-ore landed in ancient Erebor, before the dwarves settled there for a second time with King Thor. They found the ore deep within the mountain, and from it they only managed to make perhaps half a dozen at most. Several were lost during the battle of Dale when Smaug came to conquer Erebor. The last was destroyed when Bard, the new King of Dale, used it to slay the same dragon."

"Is it possible that the dwarves hold any more of this ore SOMEWHERE in the Lonely Mountain?" Lalemwen asked after a dreadful silence had fallen over the group.

"It is possible, but I'm not sure on how likely," Gregorse shrugged.

"Then I want you to write a letter to the King of Erebor immediately, Gregorse," the Queen ordered, a sense of power coming over her voice as she looked at him with fierce eyes. "Tell them that we beg for their assistance to find more star-ore and to create for as many Black Arrows as they can spare and send them here immediately. We'll pay whatever price they wish,"

"But your majesty," Gregorse spluttered in surprise. "We cannot do that! I have already sent out the first wave of men to start our takeover of the Mountain!"

"I do not recall either my husband or myself giving you that order," Lalemwen stated coldly as she fixed the lord with a suspicious glare that he wilted under. "But in any case, you will pull them back effective immediately."

"Your Majesty!" Beronor interjected. "We cannot go to others and beg for help! The words of Dorwinion have always been 'Strong and sure'."

"I do not give a damn about words when my people are in danger! If that dragon returns, I want us to live long enough to say that we swallowed our pride to survive so that we might have any pride with which to speak of,"

"Your Majesty, please listen to us when we say –"

"I am the Queen," Lalemwen snapped, rising to her feet to glare at the Lords before her dangerously. "You. Listen. To Me!"

All fell silent at her words, and Quithyra raised her brows as she looked at the Queen in shock. Lalemwen had always been a gentle flower, but to discover her thorns now was most… inspiring. Quithyra couldn't keep the smile off of her face as she watched Lalemwen take her rightful place as a Queen.

Smaug was almost howling in triumph as he soared through the air above the plains outside of the crags that surrounded his fortress. For upon the roads below, he had spotted the sight of a prey he had not expected but relished in the sight of.

A caravan of merchants.

But not just any, for with his superior dragon vision, Smaug was able to see the insignia upon the side of one of the carriages carrying goods: the symbol of Dale.

They did not know what was happening until it was already too late. From his position of over two thousand feet in the air, Smaug simply tipped his body weight forward, folding his wings against his sides so that they were only partly extended and he fell into a dive as he plummeted straight towards the earth, his fast approach being as silent as possible. The night offered him the cover of darkness to hide his approach until he was literally on top of his prey. When he was only a few hundred feet above them, he snapped open his wings with the sound of a mighty crack of thunder as he roared and unleashed a belly full of fire onto the caravan. Humans screamed as they tried to steady their animals and protect their goods, unsheathing their swords as they looked up at him, and he saw the moment when utter terror eclipsed their entire beings and they screamed anew.

Smaug relished it all as he dropped out of the sky, keeping his wings unfurled and extended above him in order to make his shadow appear almost three times as large, even as he used his forelegs to grab and throw humans, smashing carriages with his tail, clamping his jaws onto anything stupid enough to come close. He felt them fight back with arrows that bounced off of his hide, and others tried to flee, but Smaug merely cackled his laughter as he jumped into the air, using the sheer strength in his legs to send him up and arcing through the air to land as nimbly as a cat onto his prey, crushing them underfoot. He then blanketed the plains in his fire, laughing all the while as he enjoyed the game.

But his fun eventually came to an end as he realised that there were no enemies left, leaving him in a somewhat sour mood as he still felt the rush, the need for battle pump through his veins. But with a savage snarl, he repressed the want to leap back into the air and fly until he found some other poor and unfortunate soul to destroy. But he had to get back to the fortress. After his talk with Kathryn about her vision, he had let her fall into a deep sleep, even when she had tossed and turned in his coils for hours with restlessness. Once she was asleep, he had left her there whilst he tried to shake off his sudden bloodthirsty mood he had acquired whilst talking to her. He felt the need to prove to both her and himself that no one could control him, that he was undisputedly the most powerful creature on earth.

As his hand brushed against one of the smashed carriages, he heard a rather familiar tingling sound. His hearing pricking at the sound, Smaug froze, an old desire rising within him as he slowly turned and saw tiny sparkles of gold coins littered on the ground, shining in the light of his fire. Smaug made a noise in his throat as his pupils dilated at the sight of such treasure, a burning need in him forcing him to turn and fully face the gold and see that the carriages – three of them – had been full of chests of gold. Evidently the merchants had sold whatever goods they had and were returning to Dale with their spoils. How kind of them to donate such riches to one such as Smaug, who at the moment had not a single coin to his name… which he would soon change.

Then, Smaug heard another noise, a weak and pained groan, and he snapped his head to find a young human, perhaps fifteen summers old, a boy, crawling away from him, blood leaking from a wound in his head as he groaned and tried to escape. He might have had a concussion, but Smaug could see no other injuries on the boy. He was about to remedy that, when a suddenly wonderful, awful and wicked idea came to him.

Reaching out his hand, Smaug grasped the boy in his talons, making the child squirm weakly and groan all the louder as he faced the dragon with dull but terrified eyes. Smaug squeezed the boy's body between his fingers with dreadful pressure, until her heard the boy's groans turn into shrieks as the pain forced his mind to focus. Easing the pressure ever so slightly, Smaug brought his head close to the youth's face, until he saw the boy look directly into his eyes, and saw him go slack as he stared, his mind surrendering to Smaug's as the dragon-spell took hold of him. Smaug grinned maliciously.

"I want you to go back to Dale." Smaug spoke, his voice a rich and smug purr that was only tainted by the growl that promised death and blood. "Go back to them as fast you can, and send a message to the Kings of Erebor and Dale from their old friend, Smaug. You tell them quite simply: I'm coming for them."

The boy nodded numbly, shaking with terror even as his mind was still slave to Smaug's will. Smaug then plopped the boy back onto the ground and released him, watching him as the youth stumbled away towards the north.

"Run, run, little piggy," Smaug chuckled darkly to himself as he turned away from the retreating form of the boy in order to gather up his new spoils.

A/N: So I hope you liked the chapter, and please no flames if I meddled too much with the whole star-ore thing. I just thought it was kind of cool how a lot of dragons that were slain in middle earth were defeated by black weapons.

In any case, please review! Tell me what you thought of: Kathryn's vision? My description of Ancalagon? Smaug's little history lesson? Quithyra? The Meeting between Lalemwen and the Lords? Smaug's attack on the merchants? The return of Smaug's greed? And Smaug's message to Bard and the dwarves?

Until next time dragon-lovers! xXx